A Soul is for Wimps
by VampGirl
Summary: Set at the end of season 6, Buffy has a disturbing dream about Spike.


A Soul is for Wimps version 3.0 

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Written by VampGirl

Rating: PG (for now)

Pairing: B/S, mostly

Summary: Spike's sudden disappearance causes Buffy to have a dream, which may hold the key to his return. However, he's not the only one to make a guest appearance in her dreams that night.

Disclaimer: Joss owns all rights to the Buffy & Angel characters; I don't.

Spoilers: Minor spoilers for end of season 6, centering on why and where Spike goes.

Feedback: Please R/R and send it to the email addy above; it would be deeply appreciated.

Note 1: Big thanks to my beta, Krysanthemum - I *really* did need to cut down on the details; they were overwhelming. :)

Note 2: Due to feedback, I've included a bit of Spike's POV (in italics)

Status: completed

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The blazing sun shone down from its apex in the blue sky. The roar of waves crashing against the shore jarred Buffy's consciousness. Buffy jolted up into a sitting position. Confused she surveyed her surroundings. Jagged tall cliffs arced around her small patch of sand. A cave tunneled into the bottom of the cliffs at her back. Gazing down, Buffy gasped - a pink furry bikini. An eerie stillness hovered in the air.

_Slay-er_.

"Hello?" she cried out. Her voice echoed in the silence. "Is any one else here?"

"No need to shout, pet," replied a cockneyed voice. Startled, Buffy shuffled to the right and turned her head in the opposite direction. There he stood - black duster, jeans, red shirt, and all - with smugness evident in his relaxed posture.

_Looky what I see - you're slippin', Slayer. I can smell your fear. Tsk, tsk. Oh, this might be too easy. Do you know what you've done to me, have any inkling of the pain you've made me endure? Thought not. Oh, well, your time is coming._

"Spike?" she whispered in disbelief, breaking Spike's reverie. The vampire's pale skin glistened in the sun. Her voice continued to reverberate, as his speech remained stagnant.

"Yes, luv," Spike smirked, lighting a cigarette, "it's me."

"How-" she started, but than changed course, "You can't be here. You left."

"Yup, went to Africa. Made me a wish. Changes everythin' now." He took a long drag from his cigarette. "Oh, by the by, pink and furry - not a cool combo for you, Slayer. I'd imagined more black and leathery, y'know - stringy top and thongy bottom." 

"Nice, is that how I appear in *your* dreams - all sexy and sweaty? Sorry, not in my dream."

"And you think *this* is your dream? You're sweatin' - an' definitely very sexy." _Oh, I'm 'ere - yes, I am. Just like *he* use to do, tormenting you in nightmares - taunting you for making love to a demon. Angelus hated those - he'd be pacing the bleeding floors for hours afterwards. 'Specially when you'd best him. Nonetheless, you won't get the best of me, Slayer. Never again._

"So," Buffy blurted back, trying to be nonchalant. "I know this is my dream."

"Really? Care to 'splain why I'm 'ere than?"

"I dunno - why?"

_Oh, careful now, luv, it's not that simple,_ Spike chuckled to himself, mulling over an appropiate response. He owed her nothing. She'd been the one changing the bloody rules every chance she could. First, 'no' meant yes. How many times had she told him to stop his advances, only to draw him into her and succumb to the passion? But that one night - in her bathroom - suddenly 'no' meant 'no.' Spike scoffed at the memory - her payback was fast approaching. Spike noted her impatient glare and decided it was time to speak.

"Might be comin' back to ol' Sunnyhell after all. Could be soon," boasted Spike, grounded out the cigarette with his boot heel into the sand. "An' I've changed. No more 'kick-the-Spike,' Slayer. This time 'round - I've got somethin' bettah." _Oh, yea - much bettah._

"Okay, got it - you've changed. Spill - what's this metamorphosis, huh? Less talk, more stalk? Or - ooh - here's an *original* one. Wandering around the desert, you found a long-lost tribe of Romany gypsies - forced them to restore your soul. Please. Been there, done that," chided Buffy, standing up to escape the rising tide.

"C'mon, gimme some credit - think I'm a bloody Angelus wanna-be?" _Oh, puh-lease, as if I wanna live the rest of my undead days emulating the big poofter. How dense can she be? Besides brooding's not my style and souls bring out the worse in vamps._ "A soul's for wimps - oh, sorry - didn't mean to insult, but I've just gotta be me. Me, Slayer - William the freakin' Bloody, with a vampiric twist." _That should satisfy the bitch._

"Vampiric twist? Lame," lambasted Buffy with a mocked yawn. She folded her arms across her chest. "So lame. You just figured a way to circumvent the chip - become an evil bloodsucker again."

_Oh, crap - c'mon, Slayer, you're suppose to cringe or run or...or something. Get that fear back. Fear makes the blood so much sweeter. Hell, guess I gotta let out a tad more see where that gets me._ "No, not lookin' at the whole picture, pet - as usual. Don't'cha see what's right in front of your face? I've been standing right 'ere. In the sun." In a blink of an eye, Spike brought forth his inner demon and poised himself behind Buffy. Pinning her arms with one arm, Spike caught her chin with the other and cocked her head back. "But still hundred percent demon," he growled.

His fangs pierced her neck. Her scream shattered the quiet. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to quell the agony. _'That's a good Slayer, scream til the pain stops. Until I suck you drier than the Sahara,' Spike triumphfully thought._

However, involuntary convulsions forced Buffy to open her eyes - no longer on the beach, but back in her own bed. Dawn's hands clamped tightly on her shoulders, worry etched on her face.

"Buffy?! Buffy, wake up," stammered Dawn. Buffy regained her composure and sat up. "Musta been some nightmare, huh?"

"Oh, yah." Buffy swiftly brought her hand to her neck, feeling around for any mark.

"Nothin' there. Another one with Spike, right? What's his major deal this time?"

"He bit me. An-and he could be in the sun and he was...human, I think. But still a vampire," murmured Buffy, attempting to rationalize her vague dream.

"And a soul to boot. Come on, Buffy, you did that one already. You're just feeling guilty 'cuz he's gone - and it's all your fault."

"Is not," denied Buffy. "I-I had nothin' to do with it. I didn't say - gee, Spike, take a hike - or anything. I just asked him to leave me alone."

"But you said it like he was the scum of the Earth. Like you couldn't trust him."

"I don't. Dawn, we've gone through this a million times - Spike is a vampire. He has no soul. He can't change-"

"Geez, Buffy, he *has*. Why can't you see that? Maybe that's what the dream was trying to tell you, but you're too stubborn to accept it," pleaded Dawn.

Buffy glared at Dawn for a moment, than glanced over to her clock. Almost four o'clock in the morning. Fatigued, she sighed, "Dawn, can we please leave this discussion for some other time? I-"

"Right," Dawn interrupted curtly. "Sure. Whatever." She marched across the room. Dawn mutter sarcastically, "pleasant dreams," as she pulled the door shut with a 'whap.'

Buffy laid her head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Conflict raged in her mind. Should she forgo the remaining night and finish the conversation with Dawn? Or wait until morning to hash it out - after each had a chance to simmer down and Buffy had her cup of coffee? Buffy choose the latter as exhaustion slipped in. She returned to where a vampire shimmered in the sparkling sun, but he had dark hair and an evil smug grin. And this time - she wore the leather bikini.

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